


Thread by Thread I Come Apart

by undernightlight



Series: Music Inspirations [7]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Harm, Self-Destruction, Spooning, Suicidal Thoughts, self doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undernightlight/pseuds/undernightlight
Summary: Spencer is not having a good day. He can ease the feelings even if the method isn't logical; it works. Derek could be a real pain, though sometimes Spencer was grateful for that. Spencer was immensely grateful to have someone like Derek in his life.





	Thread by Thread I Come Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Sad and angsty so have fun! 
> 
> TW: mentions and described actions of self harm and self destructive thoughts

Spencer tapped his foot against the floor, a habit he'd picked up to try and distract his brain. It didn't work, but somehow he found he wasn't able to stop himself from doing it. He took a deep breath in as he felt the elevator come to a stop, and when the door opened, his feet began carrying him to his desk on automatic. This had become his routine: coming into the office for a briefing, flying out for a few days, and then finally getting home to repeat it all again. It was an endless cycle of eat, sleep and psychopaths. Reid, deep in his heart or his stomach or his head - where exactly he wasn't really sure - knew that he was helping people. He knew that what he was doing was making a difference and saving lives and preventing further crimes, yet something about his job left him empty. 

It never used to be like that. He used to feel, when he did his job, even if it was nightmares that plagued him instead of feeling of warmth and satisfaction. And then slowly, over time, things just became duller, numb. He didn't notice it right away. But when he didn't smile at one of Morgan's stupid jokes, he realised something was off. He used to smile at them all the time, sometimes laugh a little if it was actually funny, but now… Now he still smiled, but more out of expectation than actually wanting to. 

He left like he was living the life of that frog analogy everyone seems to know; that when you put a frog in water and slowly turn up the heat, they won't even notice and they'll slowly boil alive. 

Except this was different. In his case, he was turning up the heat himself, or maybe nobody was, he still wasn't exactly sure how he fit in this analogy. He did know that he was far more stupid than that frog, for he knew he was being boiled alive but didn't escape. 

He dropped his bag to the floor and shook his arms to let his coat slide off, hanging it on the back of his chair. He sat down and pressed the pads of his thumbs into the corner of his eyes. 

“You okay there pretty boy?” came Morgan's voice, and when Spencer looked up, Derek was perked on the edge of his desk, mug in hand. 

“I'm fine.”

“You look a little worn out.”

“Tired. There are roadworks outside my apartment building, and my new neighbours seem to be privy to late night, loud music.” He wasn't lying, but his exhaustion was far beyond physical. Derek didn't need to know that. “I just need coffee,” and he quickly excused himself to get the caffeine he so desperately needed, and he'd been in work less than ten minutes. 

He was thankful when Derek didn't follow. The man seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when something was wrong with him. Abilities like that is what made him a good profiler, Spencer thought, doesn't mean he needs to use those abilities on me. 

It took him a moment to find his mug - it had been moved to a cupboard when he knew he left it on the draining rack - and he poured the coffee. He poured in plenty of sugar and gave many strong stirs to aid in dissolving such a quantity before returning to his desk, Derek no longer there. That didn't help with the rising anxiety in his stomach like he thought it would. Maybe if he knew why he was feeling anxious when nothing yet had happened the anxiety would calm itself down. The mug found its usual spot and he dug his thumbs into his eyes again. He was hoping it would help, but all it did was hurt. 

The paperwork on his desk wouldn't do itself so he set himself upon it, but he found himself struggling on the words. He found it ironic in a way, that he was only ever now able to concentrate when on a case, yet he wanted nothing to do with serial killers and psychopaths anymore. He felt like he was done, like all he had to give had already been given or had been snatched away without him even noticing. But he tried not to think about that, instead going back to his files.

His fingers slipped down away from his desk to the thin elastic around his wrist and he began snapping it against his skin. It was simple but it calmed him, gave his subconscious mind something to focus on and prevented it from interfering with his conscious one. His eyes began to focus more clearly on the words in front of him, and he began managing to read, sentence by sentence. The pulling back and letting go of the elastic then slipped his mind, and he'd even forgotten he was doing it until he felt blood on the tips of his fingers. He'd broken the skin, not by much, but enough for small red dots to appear and bubble. He wiped his thumb along them, smearing them, not yet having the energy to go clean them. 

It was a bad day for him, he just knew. There were some days where smiling didn't seem too forced and he did actually find himself laughing and somehow having a good time, despite often grim surrounding circumstances. They were good days, and Spencer already knew he wasn't having a good day, not even close. His not-good days seemed to drag on, seconds stretching across minutes, minutes to hours. His concentration was limited. His attention span was like that of a child. Smiling felt like a chore and he certainly could bring himself to laugh on days like that. It was one of those days for him. 

The coffee was less than lukewarm when he got back to it, downing it's remaining contents as quickly as possible - it was far too sweet when cold. His fingers rubbed at his lids again, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Derek spying him across the room. He tried to smile, but it was tight lipped and far from convincing, and the returning quirk of Derek's lips clearly showed he wasn't convinced. Spencer wasn't sure what to do about that, but his best bet was to ignore Derek as much as possible, which was a bit hard when they spent every working day together, but if he just kept his head down, he'd be okay. 

Derek seemed to have other plans, as whenever Reid glanced up from his desk, eyes were on him, and it was always the young doctor that had to break eye contact and focus back on his work. The time between his glances was also decreasing, so if he was trying to look calm, it wasn't working. He looked shifty and suspicious, and despite knowing that, he couldn't stop checking every few minutes if Derek was still watching him, and every time he was. He took a deep breath in and rubbed a finger across his wrists again, not looking but this time feeling more blood than he was expecting. 

He stood and shuffled to the bathroom, no one else noticing but Derek as he could feel his eyes bore into his skull. It was empty and Reid was thankful, and he slipped up the cuff of his shirt. There was more blood, and it wasn't just limited to the insides like he though, but had instead worked its way around the sides; he'd still been snapping back even after he first drew blood, and he did it without even realising it. The cold water hit his skin and he rinsed. It stung a little but it was calming. 

There was so much in his world he couldn't control, but this was, this pain, was something in his command and that allowed him some satisfaction. 

After splashing cold water on his face, hoping it would wake him up - he also noticed he looked paler than usual and the dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent - he made his way back to his desk, his feet dragging behind him. Morgan was gone from his desk and Spencer let out a small sigh in relief at that, but when he saw Derek leave Hotch’s office, with his eyes on him as soon as he opened the door, any and all feelings that even related to calm were gone. Hotch hovered and also looked to Reid before vanishing back into his office and closing the door. The doctor’s stomach twisted as he sat down and attempted to continue with his work.

A headache was forming and his eyes hurt from strain, trying to focus on the letters on the page. He rubbed his eyes again. His wrist was sort, but he pressed his thumb against his skin, keeping the pain a small constant. He thought maybe it would help numb what he was feeling. It didn’t.

Derek was a kind friend, and Spencer knew he only meant well, but all he wanted was to crawl back into bed and sleep for as long as physically possible. Well, if he was being honest with himself - which was becoming increasingly harder with each passing day - it wasn’t that he wasn't to sleep. Sleep was only a temporary solution, whereas he was after something more...permanent. He thought he’d left those kind of thoughts behind, somewhere in a high school locker when he graduated at twelve, or nestled between books at the library where he’d spent much time, or in the room of child he’d helped save. Instead, he found they hadn’t left him, only going into hibernation to resurface years later.

Fingers waved in front of his face brought him back to the fact the Morgan was once again perched on his desk. “Reid, you really don’t seem alright.”

“I told you, I’m fine, just tired.”

“I’ve seen you tired kid, and this ain’t just tired. Something’s on your mind.”

“I'm fine.”

“Then why is it I don't believe you?”

Spencer looked up, but could only hold Derek’s gaze for a few seconds before letting it fall back to his hands in his lap. “I urm…” It was hard to think of something to say that would get Morgan to leave him alone, and after a moment Spencer realised that there was nothing he could say that would lead to that. The only way to have Derek leave him alone was for Derek to not be around. “I'm not feeling very well. I might go home,” and he stood, his knees feeling weak beneath him. “If you need me, call, I'll come back in.”

Derek nodded, and as Spencer straighten up after slinging his bag across his body, he gave a gentle and reassuring pat on the shoulder, or at least Spencer was sure it was suppose to reassure him. Unfortunately it didn't. “Get some rest.” And the doctor nodded before slipping out of his grasp and quickly made his way for the elevator. His hand was beginning to tremble something it did when he didn't have something to hold. The tapping of his foot returned. 

He didn't fully remember how he got home, just that one minute he was in the elevator opening at ground floor, and then he was hanging up his bag and jacket as his front door. There was a blur of streets and people, a few signs. If it wasn't for the fact that he took the same route home every day, he wouldn't of been able to accurately recall his journey. 

Taking a deep breath in, he slumped momentarily against the door, before pushing himself off and towards the bathroom. He’d left that morning in a rather foggy head space and it showed when he looked at the disorganised clutter upon the wash basin, and he began putting stuff back where it belonged. When he opened his medicine cabinet, the glint of the metal blade caught his eye. It was a replaceable one, designed for cutting paper, but he found it much more efficient at cutting through other materials. His eyes then couldn’t focus on anything else, and tidying his morning mess was an abandoned thought. He looked down and pushed up his sleeve, the thin red lines still sore and very present.

It didn’t take much energy for his to pull of his cardigan and to unbutton his cuffs, and he began rolling them. There was reason he no longer wore short sleeved shirts, and if he did, there was still always a jumper or some other knitted garment to cover him. Though it wasn’t always ideal in summer, the alternative was far less appealing than sweating to death.

It wasn’t rational, he knew that. It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t logical.

It was stupid.

But the blade was between his fingers with ease. He looked down at it, and a wave of feelings his like walking into a hail storm; all these small, individual sensations that on their own would mean little, but when amassed together, would cause aching and damage and pain. He took the sharp edge and held it against his skin with no pressure, just to feel the cold metal, and the feelings instantly began to settle down. If only just holding it there was enough, but it wasn’t. Slowly, he added weight, pushing down and dragging across, and he winced, jaw tight, and when he pulled it away, a line of deep red was forming on his skin. He watched it for a moment before repeating the action a few centimetres lower. There was little space left now that was scar free, on his arms at least.

It was stupid. He’d have to live with these all his life, but then again, how long was that?

Repetition continued, his nose scrunching up each time a new cut was made but it didn’t stop him. The pain was in his control and his alone. He was causing it, he was feeling it. Finally feeling something beyond just a dull drone of emotion. It was moments when he did this to himself, that things peaked above a five out of ten. It was like everything was turned down low, only the occasion vibrations being felt, and then suddenly it was blasted and you feel every note in every cell of your body. Nothing could stop this feeling.

Except Derek Morgan.

When Spencer heard his door open rather suddenly, and definitely unexpectedly, his body reached before his mind, and his hand move the blade further and deeper than he was intending. And by that point, the lines from the elastic were looking much less lonely upon his arms. Spencer’s breath came out is staggered exhales as he frantically looked around his bathroom for towel; for once in his life, there wasn’t one and he was ready to scream as he flung the blade into the basin.

“Reid?” Came Morgan’s voice, and Spencer froze. “Hey Spencer, you here?” The doctor hoped that of he was quiet, then Derek would leave and he could continue about his day - he had some reading and sleeping scheduled that he would like to stick to. However fate was against him - which seemed only far considering - and with the door open, Morgan appeared in sight before Reid could do anything about it. It only took a few steps before Morgan knew something was wrong only one more until he saw the blood. The paces that had began to dwindle became large and fast. “Spencer,” he called, and the doctor had never heard his friend sound more broken than he did in that moment. He was clearly searching the room for something but didn’t find it. “Towel?”

“Bedroom, bottom draw.” Even he was surprised at how calm he sounded as Morgan took off, returned shortly with a dark blue hand towel in his grasp, pressing against Spencer’s arm. Reid didn’t have the energy to push him away or to tell him to stop, so he just stood there letting Morgan silently panic and jitter. He only spoke up again when he said he was going to call an ambulance. “No,” and Morgan looked so confused, “Please don’t. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine?! Reid, you cut yourself open! That’s not fine.”

“No, I’ll be okay, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? You’re bleeding. You might need stitches.”

“I won’t.”

“How can you know?” And it was Spencer’s silence that gave Derek the answer he didn’t want; because he’d done it before and he knew at what point the injuries required stitches. “I have to call-”

“Please.” It was then that Spencer’s voice finally betrayed him, cracking at the end, stopping Derek dead. He cleared his throat but it didn’t work, then next words still coming out hoarse, “Please don’t. I’ll do anything but you can’t tell anyone.” And Derek looked at him with something he’d never seen before, something so foreign he couldn’t quite place it. “Please.” He was begging like a child trying to evade punishment, but his weak and shaky voice seemed to betray anything but confidence in his own ability to escape free. Feelings were building up inside, far more than they had in months, and Spencer was barely keeping it together.

Morgan screwed his eyes shut tight, face scrunched, as if debating internally, before finally giving a small nod though it was clearly hesitant. A staggered breath escaped the doctor and he felt himself sway, but Derek’s hands, still pressed firming on his forearm with the towel between their skin, gave his fuzzy brain something to try and focus on, and he steadied himself. He could tell his friend was torn about the decision, but Spencer appreciated it immensely.

It was then that any remaining control he had vanished, leaving him exhausted and unable to hold up the barriers he kept in place, and his body began to shake with tears. Derek’s arms were immediately around his shoulders and Spencer took handfuls of his friend’s shirt as his arms wrapped around. He clung on to the fabric as if it could save him, and he buried his face in Morgan’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Derek said, a soft and warm tone but sadness floating along in the words. “I’ve got you, I always have and I always will. You need to know that kid.” The choked back sounds that Spencer heard made it even harder to breathe. Derek didn’t deserve this. He shouldn’t need to put up with this, he deserved better. Yet Spencer couldn’t bring himself to pull away and push him out the door. “You need to know I’m here for you, that you could call me in the middle of the night and I’d come running of that’s what you needed. That you can trust me and rely on me and lean on me because you don’t have to deal with it all alone Spencer.”

He nodded as best he could, hoping Derek could feel the movements, and when Derek’s grip tightened, he assumed felt it. It had been a long time since Spencer had held someone his close to him, this tightly, for this long, and he didn’t want to let go, to have it end. He was afraid.

When Derek did pull himself back, and Spencer very clearly reluctant to release his grasp on the shirt, the doctor couldn’t meet his eyes. “You need to get some sleep”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“You need it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Please, I can’t.”

“Why?”

Derek knew about his nightmares, Spencer had told him from the beginning, but to say he was still having them, so different from when he started at the BAU but far more terrifying, and that he didn’t want to sleep because he didn’t want to bare witness to the horrors anymore, made him feel weak. It made him feel like he was fragile and that people would look at him different if they knew, that they wouldn’t be able to be themselves around them encase of saying something that would upset him. He was thankful Derek had known him so long, and that he was excellent as his job, as he then just nodded.

“I’ll stay with you,” he said, “but first, we need to sort your arm out. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Under the sink.”

“Keep pressure on this, can you do that?” When Spencer gave nod, despite Derek seeming hesitant, he let go to get under the sinks. The plastic box was a faded, off white with scuffs and scratches; by the looks on Derek's face, he was expecting something a little less used and worn. By guided hands, they ended up in Spencer's bedroom and they sat on the edge of the bed together. Derek found bandaged and began wrapping. Spencer could tell this was hard on him. He didn’t really have to stay, though Spencer doubted he’d get any sleep if he was alone, but he chose to.

Spencer, despite what his actions could possibly suggest, knew that people cared about him. He knew that Derek cared about him and wanted the best for him. He knew he had friends and that they appreciated all his work and efforts. But that was part of the problem. What was he supposed to do when they all left him? Because everyone leaves eventually, and Spencer didn’t know how long he had with them. He couldn’t lose them. He’d lost so much. Everyone he’s ever cared about is either already gone or will be because their lives are always in danger and their job is so strenuous it’s not surprising when someone quits.

He watched Derek’s hand move with care, slowly and with each movement soft and gentle. He felt his fingertips linger over old scars, some of the ones from deeper cuts that left small, raised marks. And Morgan’s hands stayed on Spencer’s arm even after he was bandaged. “You should get some sleep,” Derek finally said, standing reluctantly, “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything, okay?” And Spencer nodded. One finally reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Derek was gone.

It felt deafeningly quiet in his room now he was alone. He slipped off his clothes and into bed, and laid there for less than five minutes before he was becoming restless again, fidgety and in need of something to do. But Derek was right, he needed sleep. Against his better judgement, he hauled himself out of bed and found his robe, wrapping it around him, and heading out into the living room.

Spencer had never seen Derek’s eyes so empty as his friend sat on the couch in a gaze. He didn’t notice Spencer, so the doctor took a moment to just look at him. He hated what this had done to him. Derek was never supposed to know, no one was. It was his secret and his alone and now Derek knew and it looked like it was tearing him apart. Spencer hadn’t felt guilt like that in a while. “I urm,” he managed, Morgan’s eyes finding his instantly, “I can’t sleep.”

“You haven’t tried.”

“Would you mind...staying in there with me? You don’t have to, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I just don’t want to be alone.”

A simple nod was Morgan’s response as he stood and followed Spencer back to his room. Suddenly feeling rather exposed, he quickly found a t-shirt to wear, practically the only one he owed, and pulled it into his body. His arm was starting to sting and every movement he made caused it to ache even more. Pulling on sweatpants, he climbed back into bed. Derek sat against the headboard, his shoes neatly at the side of the room and gun on top. Spencer could feel his gaze as he laid with his back to him, and he tensed when he felt the mattress shift, getting lighter. Moments later, the weight was back, the comforter beings shifted, and then Derek’s arm was draped across his waist and chest against his back.

“I’m always here for you,” Derek said, “And I hate for you to think that you’re alone in this. I’m not saying you have to tell me everything, and I’m not saying talking to me will make everything go away, but I am saying that you should try. Don’t suffer alone, please, let us help. Let me help you.”

Spencer didn’t attempt to shift or move when he began to speak - he knew that if he looked at Derek’s face he’d burst into tears like a child. “I wish it was that simple.”

“It is.”

“No it’s not. We work the same job, looking at cases of murder and torture and sadism, and we’re all affected. You already have to deal with it yourself and I don’t want to unload on you when you already have so much.”

“Stop feeling guilty because you’re having a hard time. We all get like that sometimes.” Spencer curled up, bringing his knees closer to his chest and stomach, and he felt Morgan’s hand slip forward, wrapping around him and pulling him closer. “Listen to me, I want to help you, anyway I can. Just tell me what I can do.”

“Stay with me, just for a little while. You don’t have to stay long.” He felt Derek nod, and that was enough to finally allow the smallest of smiles to dance across his lips. He wasn’t happy, not really, but he felt a sense of safety he hadn’t felt in quite some time. He always felt safer when he was with Derek, and being in his arms just amplified that feeling completely. It was nice. A shame it couldn’t last. But while it did, Spencer would appreciate it. The circumstances weren’t ideal, and his arm still stung and he could see the bandages turning red and brown as he continued to bleed beneath them, but it felt a little less painful with Derek. There was still so much he had to explain if Morgan really wanted to help him; Spencer didn’t doubt he wanted to help, but it felt like he was far beyond saving to really be worth the try.

His breathing was closer to normal now, though whenever he took deep inhales, it still shook like a boat on rough seas. Focusing on making it calmer only caused his anxiety to wobble in his stomach. Instead, he focused on Derek’s breathing. He could feel the rise and fall of his friend’s chest against his back, and the gentle exhales on the back of his neck. It reminded him he wasn’t alone. He was hesitant, but he moved his own hand up to lay across Morgan’s, and surprisingly, Derek twisted his wrist so their palms lay together, linked their fingers and squeezed. Spencer thought his hands must seem rather small in Derek’s, his fingers just as long but thinner. That was all of Spencer, just as tall but skinnier, less built.

He found himself focusing on the touch, how Derek’s hand was warm wrapped around his, but then something in his shifted and twitched and then he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He’d lost everyone, and he couldn’t lose Derek Morgan too, that just wouldn’t be fair. Spencer had tried to come up with a logical way to distance himself but he never could, and found himself looking at Derek the same way every time he saw him. He, for lack of a better term, was in love. It was difficult, and this wasn’t helping. Sooner or later, he’d be left alone. It was inevitable. He tired not to think about it, but once he starts thinking it’s very hard to stop.

“Reid, stop thinking. I can hear it.”

“You can’t hear my thinking.”

“You still need to stop.”

“Easier said than done.”

“What can I do to help?”

“I…” Let go. Leave me alone. Stop reminding me of what I want to badly but know I can’t have. Leave now and not later. “I don’t know.” Never let me go. Stay by my side because I desperately need someone like you with me because I don’t know how I’ll survive otherwise.

# # # # # #

When Spencer awoke, he felt cold. He was alone in his bed - it took him a moment to realise - and suddenly that felt rather strange. He had to think about what was going on, the sleep clouding over rational and quick thought, before remembering everything. He remembered Morgan talking to him about anything and everything that came to his mind, just hoping to give Spencer something else to focus on. The young doctor was surprised it worked as well as it had, and the clock told him he’d gotten over three hours of sleep. Despite being privy to midday naps, he didn’t usually sleep that long.

He was even colder when he pulled himself upright and the comforter fell off his upper body. Derek’s shoes were where he’d felt them so he must be around, and though cold, Spencer pulled himself to his feet and trudged out to find him. He was found rather quickly, sat on the couch. Spencer couldn’t tell how long he’d been there but his stomach dropped; he’d never seen Derek look so empty. They’d been through a lot together over the years, and Spencer had seen his friend very low, but there was something about the almost gaunt expression that made Spencer feel like it was the end of the world.

One more step forward and Derek finally saw him, his eyes snapping from where they’d been distantly gazing, up to his. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Hey kid, sleep alright?” Spencer nodded. “Feeling any better?”

“A bit.” He did feel a bit better. He wished sleep would curse him of it all, but it didn’t. He doubted anything would ever cure him. “How long have you been up?”

“Not that long. Maybe ten minutes.”

“Did you stay with me that entire time?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” Spencer didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to say that at this point, he just expected people to leave. Derek seemed to know this though. “I told you,” he said as he stood and walked towards him, “I'm not going anywhere.”

“And that's what scares me.” He was only supposed to mutter under his breath, a note to himself, but Derek was close and it was silent between them otherwise and he was stupid enough to let the words leave his mouth to begin with, so of course Morgan heard. 

“Hey,” and he forced Spencer's head up by his chin, “Listen to me, I'm not going anyway, I promise you.”

“You can't promise me something like that. It's not a promise you can guarantee you'll keep.”

“But you know I'll try.” Spencer managed a nod. Derek's hands gently came up around the doctors arm, turning it up slowly. “The bandages need changing.”

“I can do it.”

“I'm sure you can, but let me do it, okay?”

Spencer just found himself nodding again and sitting down on the couch while Derek went to retrieve the first aid kit. The bandage was messy with dried blood, brown like mud, and it made him feel dirty. His mind was beginning to race again, thinking of what Derek had said. He really wished he could believe him, he wanted to. So badly did he want to believe everything Derek ever said, but his heart wouldn't let him, no matter how hard he tried. And he tried. 

Soft footsteps alerted Reid to Morgan's presence, and he forced himself as best he could to stop thinking about things he couldn't control. He wasn't very good at it but he had to try. Derek sat down beside him and began to undo the stained bandages, and Spencer just let him. Every time Derek's hand came into contact with his arm, he felt something, some comfort that he wished he could always have. He had a feeling though that he could easily become dependent on that feeling though, if he knew he had a steady fix like Morgan. Soon enough, his arm was re-bandaged, and Spencer had watched every time the cloth was wrapped around his skin.

They sat together in silence after Morgan was finished, the plastic first aid box clipped back up and put on the coffee table. Spencer didn't know what to say to ease the slow growing tension between them. He felt like he should say something. There was too much to say. Just like being sat in work, there was a growing headache. 

“You're thinking again.”

“I'm always thinking.”

“Get those thoughts out of your head and tell me what you're thinking.”

That seemed a rather dangerous question, and though Derek said he wanted to help, that he wanted to know what was going on with him, Spencer was still unconvinced that Derek would really want to know once he does. Spencer didn't want to tell Derek and then know he regretted ever asking. A tightness was forming in his chest and he was struggling to swallow. Sometimes, Spencer found himself wanting nothing more than to fade into non existence, and he definitely felt like that as silence began to stretch out between them again as he struggled to know what to do or to form any words.

He wasn’t even really paying attention when he felt a soft touch against his hand, too busy staring into space to focus on his surrounds, and when he looked, Derek’s hands rested gently atop of his, wrapping comfortably around. “I just want to help,” Derek said, and Spencer could tell he meant it. He’d known Derek for a long time, and he wouldn’t just leave him, so though he still had reservations and concerns and doubts, he put effort in trying to find words that would help his friend understand.

“For a long time, I haven’t felt quite right. I don’t know exactly when things changed or what triggered it, but I just haven’t felt like...like it’s really worth going on. I’ve considered leaving the bureau quite a few times, yet I’m never able to ask for the paperwork. And these cases...It just never gets any better.”

“You’re helping people Reid. People are alive because of you.”

“I know that, but sometimes it doesn't feel worth it. I’m tired of looking at dead bodies and blood all over walls and having to profile serial killers and sexual sadists. I just...I feel like I’m done. I feel like I’ve given everything I’ve ever had and I get nothing back. And I’m not asking for anything, not really, but just to feel like...I don’t know what I want to feel.” His voice wavered and cracked, and he could feel his jaw begin to tremble and ache as he fought back tears. He felt so weak. How was he supposed to do a job if he couldn’t control himself? “And,” he continued when Morgan didn’t speak, “And I’m scared. I’m scared to lose everyone because you guys are family to me and I don’t know what I’d do without you but I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose us.”

“We get shot at regularly. I could lose any of you in just a day. I could lose all of you in just a minute. Derek, I don’t want to lose you.”

And finally the dam broke and Spencer started to sob. There was no hesitation when Derek shuffled closer and pulled him against his chest, wrapping arms around him and holding his close. Spencer grabbed ahold of Derek’s shirt, gripping the fabric like his life depended on it as his body shook. His arm was aching more with the pressure against it and with the strength at with he held onto Derek, but he didn’t really care. This wasn’t what he had in mind when his day began. He’d expected to just get on with his day like normal, pretending he was fine. He’d gotten better at it, enough that they didn’t ask too many questions anymore, but for some reason he couldn't. And for some reason Derek just knew.

“Listen to me kid,” came Derek’s voice. It was soft and gentle, like being scooped up in a fluffy blanket, and it was slightly muffled by Spencer’s hair, “I can promise you, I’ll never just get up and leave you. This job is unpredictable I know, and sometimes stuff happens, but I’ll never leave you by choice do you hear me? I’ll stay by your side and I’ll protect you as best as I goddamn can. I can promise you that.”

“I want to believe you-”

“Then believe me because it’s true. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried pretty boy.”

A light but strangled laugh escaped him. Derek always made things better, Spencer had learnt that a long time ago but sometimes he forgot, but in moments like this, when he felt vulnerable, like he’d cry for hours over the rain being too heavy, Derek was always there to keep him steady. Not to stop him crying, but to ensure that he wasn’t crying alone. The doctor eased himself back though tears were still running down his face to look at Derek. Spencer so wanted to believe him, and the sincerity in Derek’s eyes told him that he meant it. Spencer would have to get used to that feeling again, feeling valued and important, but it was something he so desperately wanted to feel again. He sent a weak smile to Derek, and Derek smiled back with the warmth of the sun.

Derek’s hand went back to rest on Spencer’s, and Spencer felt okay with that, and smiled at their hands on his thigh. “Derek, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you follow me home?”

“You think by now I can’t tell when you’re lying to me? When something’s wrong? Spencer I’ve known you a long time, you’re one of the closest people to me. I know when something’s not right. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and there was nothing I could do to help.”

 

“You helped me a lot. More than I’d ever ask.”

“You don’t have to ask, that’s what I’m saying. You ask and I’ll be there of course, but I’ll always be here.” And Derek squeezed his hand as Spencer nodded. Derek was right, like he always was, and Spencer felt something calm in him. Things weren’t going to be fixed overnight, and Spencer was sure he’d continue to struggle with self destruction and feelings of doubt and misery and wanting to give up on everything and live in a library with no internet and cell phone signal, but for now, staying with the BAU was probably the right decision. And Derek would be there, and Derek always made things at least just a bit more manageable. That was many of the reasons why Spencer Reid loved Derek Morgan.


End file.
